They Won't Be Calling Me Flipper

I started a water aerobics class this week.

I felt like Sha.mu in my black maternity bathing suit. Sha.mu with a skirt, that is.

I got a bathing suit from a generous friend, in a box of lots of other maternity hand-me-downs. I didn't think that I would ever have the nerve to be seen in public in a bathing suit pregnant, so I wasn't that concerned what the suit looked like. But as the weight has continued to add up and the cellulite continues to pile on, I am interested in at least somewhat keeping in shape.

Following the bleeding incident, however, my OB has forbidden all forms of exercise that could cause any impact or strain - even a gentle session on the elliptical is not a great idea right now. I am on my feet a lot for work, so he just doesn't think it's a great idea to add in any extra standing time. His suggestion was water aerobics.

We had just joined a gym with a really nice saltwater/freshwater pool and they happen to have classes everyday. I also have a girlfriend recovering from surgery who was also advised to take such a class. We decided to brave the waters together.

I have taken (and enjoyed) group exercise classes before. I like the social pressure of having to finish what I started. It's too easy if I am working out by myself to just quit if I get tired. On the other hand, one time I tried a spinning class and nearly died, but wouldn't walk out because I didn't want to be embarrassed. I was so sore the next day that I could barely get in and out of my car. I digress. . .

So, I hadn't even tried on this suit before Wednesday morning's class. It actually didn't fit too badly, but the skirt makes me feel about 80 (which happens to be the average age of my fellow classmates). So, there I was, flopping around in the water, trying to learn the moves and follow along, with this skirt splashing me in the face.

I actually enjoyed the class and the belly was a big hit with the grandmas and grandpas in the pool. My friend liked it, too. Although I wasn't exhausted after the session, I did feel as if I had gotten a light workout without the strain.

So, I am going out to get a bathing suit this weekend. Without a skirt. And not black. It may be slimming, but strangely enough, Sha.mu doesn't look too skinny. And neither do I.

The Belly at 26 (27 tomorrow) weeks!

I Met Myself Today

I have become the pregnant woman that I used to avoid at all costs. You might find me at Tar.get. Or your favorite restaurant. Just walking down the street.

I am unmistakably pregnant. I've been told that I glow. I rub my belly - both because it itches and because my baby is moving like a wild thing. I don't even realize that I am doing it half the time.

This morning, I was in line at Star.buck's. The lady in front of me turned around and I saw it. I saw the unmistakeable sadness tug at her eyes. Before you think that I could be just imagining it, she asked me how far along I was. She asked how I was feeling, morning sick? Back aches? All of the above? She was friendly, genuinely interested in my pregnancy, but that look was still there, a tightening of the mouth, a slight grimness to the smile.

From her questions, it was clear that she knew a lot about pregnancy. I didn't want to ask, because I was almost sure that I knew the answer, but then there was no guessing.

"I was due in September."

The was caught in her throat and lashed into my heart. "Oh, I am sorry."

"I lost the baby in April."

"I'm so, so sorry." Why is it that after all of our losses, that is still the best that I can come up with? Why is it that I have nothing more profound to offer this grieving mother?

"This isn't my first pregnancy. I lost several babies before this one. I know how much it hurts," was what I decided to say.

"Oh, that's awful. It took us three years to get pregnant. We did IVF. And then I lost it." I can see that she hates her body, for what it failed to protect, for losing what she held so dear.

I wanted to comfort, to offer solace. But despite our common background, the belly between us felt like a deep chasm.

Suddenly, it was her turn to order. Life interrupted. We both got caught up in getting our drinks, moving on with our day. I tried to catch her attention again before she left, wanting to give her some of the resources that I found so helpful, but she was gone.

Before I was pregnant, I felt that it was so easy to reach out. Now, it's different. Even when I comment on blogs now, I feel self-conscious. I don't comment sometimes, even when I want to, because I fear that I might come across differently than I did before, that I might hurt instead of help. It is certainly no easier in the real world to know the right or wrong things to say. "I'm sorry" doesn't seem like enough, even though I know it is better than nothing. I just feel as if I should be able to do better.

As I was crossing the parking lot, I saw her driving away. I couldn't see clearly enough to know for sure, but I almost am positive that she was crying.

And a second later, so was I.

A Saturday in August

I lived in fear of putting dates on the calendar for a long time with this pregnancy. With so many lost angels, there are a lot of circled and scratched out dates in my dayplanners of the past.

When friends and family started asking about showers, I put them off as long as I could. It wasn't that I didn't want the showers, but I didn't want empty dates with no meaning, yet all of the meaning in the world. I already have more of those than I care to think about.

The birth center where I will deliver also requires a Labor & Delivery prep class, which includes the infamous hospital tour. I got a reminder in the mail two weeks ago that I needed to sign up soon, because they like you to have the class completed by 34 weeks. That's August 1, ladies and gentleman. Barely two months away.

My husband's best friend and his wife want to get a cabin in the mountains for a weekend this summer. Since it's a couple of hours from here and no where near a good hospital, we know that we should also do that relatively soon.

All of these dates coming so fast made me realize that it was time to sit down with the calendar. I started putting in all of the dates for the four (yes, four, we are blessed more than I can even begin to say) showers, the classes, the tour, the weekend away, and I started realizing that this summer is going to be over before I know it. I was looking at the page for August and my eyes kept drifting down to August 30. Would you even believe that until yesterday, I didn't even know that August 30 was a Saturday? I just never let myself look that far ahead.

I started to close the calendar and then I realized that I still needed to put one last date on the page. I even switched from the ball point pen that I had been using to a red Sharpie. First, I circled the date. Then, I wrote in capital letters: "Baby Boy Due." I looked at the page for a few minutes. My heart was actually beating faster than usual and I felt a little tug of remorse at my boldness.

This is silly, of course, because this date is emblazoned in my mind, regardless of being on any physical calendar. But just putting it there, seeing it there, was a big step for me.

Better Than Flowers

My husband has a romantic side. I can count on flowers about once a month (but randomly, so I never know when to expect them) or a treat of some sort if he stops by the grocery store.

Last night, he called on his way home from work and wanted a specific meat to BBQ for dinner. As I didn't have it, I told him he was going to have to stop at the store and pick it up. This was about 6:00. I figured that he would be home by 7:00 and started prepping some other things for dinner.

By 7:30, I was starting to worry a bit.

By 8:00, I was calling his cell phone.

At 8:02, he walked in and handed me. . .

a box.

I was confused. It was a large box, almost as tall as me. He had a grin on his face, so I knew whatever it was was going to be good.

And it was. Inside the box was a beautiful hammock.

I have been wanting a hammock since we stayed in Mexico for the first time on our honeymoon. We have a tiny backyard and really no place to put a hammock. This weekend, I started saying how much I wanted to be laying on a hammock right now, since it would be so comfortable and would cradle my burgeoning body. My husband's answer to my request was that he didn't know how he would rig a hammock in our small, treeless backyard.

Last night, he went on a mission. He bought the hammock and extra hardware and found a way to hang the hammock between two corners of our fence posts. It worked perfectly.

By 8:30, the BBQ was going, dinner was on the grill, and I was in my hammock.

I love my husband.

All's Well That Ends Well

After a nice, relaxing weekend, life has returned to normal. Or at least as normal as life gets during pregnancy.

I haven't had any spotting, bleeding, cramping, or anything that would signal alarm. Baby Boy continues to amuse me with his stomach stretching antics.

A quick check-in with Dr. S has confirmed that while the cause of the bleeding is still unknown, irritated cervix seems the most likely culprit. Unless I start bleeding again, this was merely a blip in an otherwise healthy pregnancy.

Big. Sigh. Of. Relief.

Thank you again for your support and love. There aren't enough words to thank you properly.

L&D Mystery

It's a long story and yesterday was an even longer day, but basically, they have no idea why I am bleeding. After the bleeding turned red, a trip to L&D yielded the following. . .

Possibly an irritated cervix.

Possibly a slight tear in the placenta, but too small to measure (???).

There is no collected blood up by the cervix, which is good.

Baby Boy is doing fine, moving and grooving, heart beating appropriately.

The bleeding never really got much heavier and seems to have stopped altogether now.

I am still on bedrest throughout the weekend with a follow up appointment this Tuesday. The doctor on call seemed to think that irritated cervix was the most likely cause, seeing that I had a lot of swelling last week (none of my shoes fit, I had to take off my rings, and my feet bruised) and am on my feet for work pretty much all day. He said that the cervix can get bruised just like any other part of the body when it swells and that with all of the extra blood flow to the area, bleeding can be a common result. We hadn't had. . . ahem. . .you know for a few weeks, and we are definitely restricted now, so it wasn't related to that (a girl can only wish, right?).

There was a small something on the placenta, but it was so small that they don't think that it could be causing any problems. If it was the cause of the bleed, then it was already resolving itself. The amniotic fluid levels looks fine, right in the average range, although I am under strict instructions to drink water as if it's my job for the next few days.

So, all of that to say, they don't really know. I'd have to say, honestly, no one seems that concerned. I even feel a bit sheepish for being so alarmed, but you know, bleeding + pregnancy has never equalled good things for me.

Thank you for the outpouring of love, support, and prayers. I cried reading through the sweet comments. This community is the greatest.

Pink spotting. Not red. Pink. No cramps. Felt Baby Boy just a little bit ago.

Doctor says straight to bed and lots of fluids. If it turns red, cramping starts, or his movements don't seem the same, I go to L&D.

Please, God, please. Let this stop. Let my baby be okay.